


Now

by Zilchtastic



Series: How Soon Is Now [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Light BDSM, Shameless Smut, Size Kink, Slow Burn, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:29:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zilchtastic/pseuds/Zilchtastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She walks up to him in the tavern, every line of her body slim and sharp like a knife, and gives him a look like he's an opponent she's sizing up. The Iron Bull stays still, relaxed, unmoved. <i>Ask for it,</i> he thinks. <i>Ask and I'll give it to you.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You told me "soon"," she says, voice pitched low. "When exactly is "soon"?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to "Soon". Looking like the middle of three, now. Sort-of follows the game romance plot, sort-of doesn't. 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments so far! I'm so happy people are enjoying my return to writing.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

She walks up to him in the tavern, every line of her body slim and sharp like a knife, and gives him a look like he's an opponent she's sizing up. The Iron Bull stays still, relaxed, unmoved. _Ask for it,_ he thinks. _Ask and I'll give it to you._

"You told me "soon"," she says, voice pitched low. "When exactly is "soon"?"

"Now," he tells her, and her pale green eyes flash with surprise, with hunger.

He takes her to her own quarters this time-- more space, nicer bed. Besides, he feels like this part should be in _her_ territory-- someplace familiar, if not comforting, someplace she feels secure. He wants her to feel safe while they do this, maybe safer than she's ever felt before. He wants her to let go. He wants her to lay it all bare before him, and he wants her to do it because _she_ wants to.

And underneath all that, he just wants.

He tilts her sharp little chin upwards; she looks ready to be kissed, but he doesn't lean down to kiss her. Not yet. "You liked what we did last time, yeah?"

She hesitates, then nods. She's blushing already, and he hasn't said a single dirty thing yet. That doesn't mean she isn't picturing it, though-- that she hasn't been picturing it for over two weeks.

"You practice at all between now and then?"

Her face flames. "Bull!"

He just grins. "Answer the question. Have you touched yourself since then? Did you think about me while you did it?"

She loves the dirty talk. She's putty in his hands, ready and willing, going up on tiptoes to tempt him down for a kiss. "Maybe once or twice," she demures.

"That all? Would've thought you'd be harder up than that. I expected you to come to me a lot sooner."

Her eyes flash, and he suddenly remembers how quick she is with a knife. "I was waiting for _you_!"

He can't help but let out a low chuckle at that. "I know."

"Ass."

She's still straining up on her toes. "You promised you'd show me more."

"So I did." He leans down, just shy of kissing her, lips not quite there. "How much do you want to know?"

Her head tilts to the side a little at that, curious, puzzled. "Everything?" She sounds unsure.

"Yeah," he says, "but... _Everything_ , everything? Or just a little?"

She licks her lips. He wants to lick them too. "Define 'everything'."

"'Everything' is I tie you up," he says, voice dropping low. "I tie you to your bed, and you let me. I hit you a little bit."

"Hit me?" She's trembling now. He keeps hold of her chin, doesn't let her back away or ease down off her tiptoes.

"Not like you're thinking. It'll hurt, yeah, but in a... different way. You liked it when I smacked your ass."

She turns her head sharply, embarrassed. He pulls her chin back around. "You liked it," he says again, sure.

"I..."

"If you didn't, tell me now. We don't have to do this, Boss. Because if we do this... We're doing it my way. Do you understand what that means?"

"I... I think so. You're--"

"In charge," he tells her. He lifts his other hand, soothes it through her short, pale hair. "You do what I say when we're together like this. You take what I give you."

"Always?"

He smiles, still petting her hair. "Pretty much. Outside this room, you're still the boss. In here, you don't need that anymore. You can just be you. I can just be me. And I can take care of you." He kisses her finally, just a soft brush of his mouth against hers, and she whimpers a little. "Sound good?"

"I'm not... I won't be your slave," she insists, looking defiant and a little afraid.

"It's not like that," he says, shaking his head. "This isn't about that. This is about you trusting me to give you what you need. This is about you trusting me, period. Do you?"

"Of course." She says it like he's crazy for even asking, which makes him smile more.

"Good. Then we're on the same page. We do things my way here, and I show you everything you haven't even known you wanted to know."

"What if I don't like it?"

He likes that she's asking questions, that she's making sure before she commits. "If you don't like it, we stop this. If it isn't for you, then that's fine. No shame in it. But if you're going to be with me, then this is how it has to go, Boss."

She trembles, has to lean one hand against him to stop from swaying. "You're asking an awful lot," she says, closing her eyes briefly.

"I know." He ghosts his lips over her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, across her lips again. She leans in, chasing the kiss he keeps holding back from her. "But I'll never ask you for more than I think you can give. And if something is bad-- not just uncomfortable, but really bad, or scaring you-- you say 'katoh', and we stop immediately."

She opens her eyes. "I just say that, and you'll stop? Even though I'm tied up and there's nothing stopping you but a promise?"

He nods. "That's exactly it."

She lets out a breath, like she's been holding it. Her shoulders drop, just a fraction. "Okay," she says.

Iron Bull's pulse leaps skyward.

***

He sits on her bed without asking, pulls her to stand in front of him. "I want you to strip for me," he tells her.

She blushes, but her hands go immediately to the clasps on her shirt. He smiles, has to grab them, slow her down. "Easy, Boss. Not like that."

"How?" She sounds confused.

" _Slow_." He leans back on his arms, waiting, watching. "I want to enjoy this. I want to see every little pale bit of you slowly unveiled. I want you to get all hot and bothered because you like that I'm watching you."

She swallows hard enough that he can see her throat bob. "I think I can do that. Maybe."

"Give it a shot."

She takes a few steps back, like she's giving herself room. Bull nods encouragingly. Her fingers go to her shirt-clasps again, slowly, trembling a little. The first clasp comes undone.

"This is embarrassing," she mumbles, eyes cast downward. He's already seen her topless but she's still so shy. It's hot as hell.

"You can do it," he tells her. "Go slow. One button at a time. Slide the shirt off your shoulders when you're done."

She does it, not looking at him, face red as a beet the whole time. The material rustles dully beneath her fingers; buttons clink softly. When she gets to the last button she actually turns around, sliding the shirt down and off, letting it hit the ground carelessly. She's still wearing her little undershirt, facing away, like even _that's_ too immodest to show him.

"Now you're getting it," he says, voice full of approval.

She starts on her boots next--maybe remembering the frustrations of the first time they did this. He waits patiently while she undoes buckles and laces and slides them off-- there's really no way to make taking off boots look graceful, but she manages it with a minimum of hopping on one foot so he makes a note to reward her later. She stands back upright and throws a devastating look over her shoulder, all big-eyed and soft and unsure. "Am I doing it right?"

He leans back a little more, smiling broadly. "From where I'm sitting, you're doing just fine, Boss."

She smiles back at him, shy, and shakes her head a little like she doesn't believe it. Her hands move; she's starting on the ties of her breeches. Bull can almost taste his own anticipation.

This girl is _good_.

She sort of slides the tight material down her legs, inch by inch until he's seeing the tight curve of her slender ass. Another inch, another, another. She's killing him. Fuck, is this ever good. She has to bend down to get them all the way off; her panties have gone with them, like she was too impatient not to get them both in one go. He'll forgive her, just this once.

She lifts the undershirt over her head, drops it to the floor in one last motion. She stands there, eyes glued to the floor, breaths coming fast like she's just run through a line of demons, not like she's just taken off her clothes.

Bull licks his lips. "Good," he tells her. "Turn around."

It takes her a few moments to obey. When she does, she has her hands clasped in front of her, modestly blocking the view.

Bull clucks his tongue at her. "Let me see you," he says. "I want every last part of you on display for me."

She drops her shaking hands to her sides.

She's beautiful. Bull has seen the show before, but not like this. The firelight and the lamps soften her edges, make her thinness look dainty instead of hollow, making her look like she's made of porcelain, like her skin is almost glowing. There's hardly a mark on her-- they've been lucky with the healing, and she has almost no scars despite the fighting they've seen already.

There's hair between her legs, but not much, and it's as light as what's on her head, making it seem almost transparent. Bull can see the tempting seam of her cunt, wants his fingers there, has to remind himself to hold back, to go _slow_.

"Is this... good?" she asks, finally, voice unsure.

Iron Bull has to swallow before he can answer her. "This is good. This is really, really good."

She chances a look upwards at him; apparently whatever she sees is reassuring. Maybe it's the appreciation in his eyes, the look of wanting that must surely be plain to see. Maybe it's his smile. Maybe she's just ready.

"Come here," he tells her.

She comes, without hesitating this time. He slides his hands immediately to her waist-- his hands almost encircle her, fingers almost touching. She's so tiny, delicate. The thought of how careful he's going to have to be with her only gets his blood up more.

"Bull," she says, whispering his name like a prayer.

He kisses her properly this time, long and slow and deep, and she arches her back, tries to get closer without actually breaking the kiss. Her hands come up to frame his face as they kiss, and it's sweet and hot and good, but Bull's about ready to make it even better.

He pulls back from the kiss, leans in to growl against her ear. "On the bed. Lie down."

She obeys, eyes wide and a little dazed. He just knows she's imagining it-- what he might do with her, _to_ her-- and it's got her a little scared and a lot turned on. Her blush spreads itself down to her small breasts as she arranges herself a little clumsily in the middle of the big four-poster bed. She looks up at him hopefully. "Like... Like this?"

Bull has to bite back a snarl of sheer _want_. She looks vulnerable like this, so far from the silvered, knife-edged creature she is on the battlefield. It's a good look on her. He's eager to go with it.

He doesn't have any rope on him, so he'll have to improvise this time. "Hands above your head," he tells her. "Keep them there, and don't move."

She's slow to act, hesitant, so Bull grabs her wrists and swiftly pins them where he wants them. She gasps, startled-- and arches _up_ , begging for contact, for touch. So far, so good, he thinks. So very, very good.

"Remember your word?" he asks her.

She licks her lips, has to blink some of the haze out of her eyes before she nods. "You'll stop? If I say it?"

"I'll stop. Just make sure you only use it if you really, truly need to, understand? It's not to be used lightly."

"I understand."

She looks like she's trying to, anyway, that little frown developing between her eyes as she tries to process everything at once.

"Good. Now, look at me. Keep your eyes open, got it?" He transfers both her wrists to one hand-- he still grasps them both easily, her wrists are so small and fragile-- and slides the other down her side, ticklishly light, fingertips only, exploring. Her skin is smooth, softer than should be possible, like silk brushed the right way.

She squirms a little as he slides down her hip-- so he lifts his hand and gives her flank a little smack. She cries out-- a little shocked, a little outraged. "Bull!"

"No moving," he tells her.

"But why? I want to move. I want you to touch me."

Bull has to force down the smile that wants to creep onto his face at her admission. "I just bet you do. Tough it out, Boss."

She scowls up at him then, defiant. Oh, this is gonna be _good_.

"You can't follow orders," Bull tells her, tone casual, "you get smacked. If you're really bad, I'll have to use my belt."

She freezes at that, trembling. "Your--? You _wouldn't_." But she doesn't look sure.

"I can, and I will. But only if you keep misbehaving."

She watches him. Trembles. Bites her lip. Keeps still.

"Good girl," he tells her. He goes back to tracing little patterns across her skin with his fingers. He's a little disappointed the Dalish tattoos don't go all the way down, so he doodles the shapes that ought to be there with his fingertips, following no particular pattern or path.

Lavellan whines a little, high in her throat. Turned on, or impatient, or both. She keeps still, but she's quivering again, and he knows she wants to move, to writhe, to dissipate some of her nervous energy somehow. Bull smiles, showing teeth this time.

He deepens the touch a little, turns it into a caress, almost a massage, and she sighs. Her eyes slowly drift shut as she concentrates on just the feel of it.

_SMACK!_ She cries out, startled, when he lays the hand against her thigh. "Eyes _open_ ," he tells her.

She makes another sound, lips pressed together in a tight line. Her eyes are watering a little; the site of the slap is burning bright red. He slips his fingers over it, petting the handprint possessively, and she turns her head away, embarrassed.

It earns her another stinging smack. She cries out again, a mix of rage and shock, and Bull shakes his head, sighing. "I thought you could handle a few simple orders, but it's looking like you need the discipline after all. Turn over." He sits up, releases her wrists.

"Bull, I'm-- I didn't mean to--"

"Turn. Over."

She does as she's told-- shakily, clumsily, turning her head to the side so she can eye him warily as he rises from the bed. Her breathing is fast; she looks unsure. That's fine. She can be unsure all she wants; she'll feel better after her first lesson is learned.

"Watch my face," he tells her, "and keep count for me."

"I-- what?"

"You heard me. I want you to count every hit. You forget, or count it wrong, you get two more. Got it? We'll start with five."

She's shaking so hard in anticipation that Bull wishes he'd tied her down after all. "Grab the headboard," he tells her, showing mercy she doesn't even understand yet. She does, clutches at it white-knuckled. Her eyes watch his face; her irises are almost gone, just thin shreds of Fade-green around the black of her pupils.

Time for Lesson One.

The first smack to her bottom is really just a feeler, an experiment, but she yells like it hurts so much more. Half of it is surprise; she trembles violently. "One!" She gasps finally, remembering at the last second.

Bull nods at her. He won't punish her for that. She's new at this, after all.

The second hit is harder, leaves red behind on her ass in the shape of Bull's fingers. She yells louder at that, barely remembers to say "two". She's gripping the headboard like someone getting a lashing.

Bull leans down to her ear. "Ass up," he tells her.

She moans at that, long and low, despairing and aroused. She gets her knees under her, just a little, just enough to get her ass up off the bed.

Hit number three makes her wail. "We're more than half done," he tells her. "You're doing good." The praise seems to help, steels her a little; she counts four and five with only little yelps of pain. She falls to the bed after, gasping, shaking.

"Now," Bull says, "are you ready to do as you're told?"

She nods, a quick jerk of her head. Her eyes have teared up a little; Bull brushes some of the moisture away with his fingertips. 

"Hurts, right? Believe me, I wasn't hitting you half as hard as I _could_ , and you know it."

She makes a little noise, not quite disagreement. Bull laughs.

"You did good. You took all five and you didn't make me have to give you any more. I'm proud of you."

She calms a little again. The praise, honest and absurd, seems to be doing her good. Bull smoothes a hand over her reddened skin and she winces, keens low in her throat. "What," she gasps, "are you getting out of this?"

Iron Bull chuckles. "You wouldn't need to ask if you could see how fucking hot you look right now. Your ass is cherry-red, and I can _see_ how wet you are." He slips a hand down her thighs and she gasps as he runs fingers through the dampness he finds smearing them. "You _liked_ that."

She moans again, closing her eyes like it's too much.

The hardest smack yet brings her back to attention. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just--"

"One more time," he tells her, voice low and hard now. "One more time and you get the belt."

"I'm sorry, I promise, I won't, I'm sorry," she babbles brokenly.

He has her full attention now, and he likes that. There's nothing else to think about-- nothing outside this room, nothing beyond this bed, nothing but _him_. "You don't need to worry about anything," he tells her, and he's sure she doesn't understand it yet, but she _will_. "I'll take care of you. All you have to do is obey."

"Yes," she says. "Yes."

He likes it when she says that word.

"Ass up again," he tells her briskly, not-quite tapping the red streaks across her pale skin. She makes a little helpless noise and gets her knees under her again; Bull arranges her until she's got her ass high in the air and her chest pressed against the pillows. She looks so good like this, so vulnerable, so _ready_ , and Bull is almost dizzy he's so damn hard. She doesn't protest, doesn't question; just looks at him, all big-eyed and waiting to see if he's going to smack her again.

But that's not what he has in mind. He slides his fingers up her thigh, to the wetness and warmth of her, just brushing the flushed-pink lips of her cunt. She lets out a thin wail, but other than trembling she doesn't move.

Bull smiles, lays a kiss against her hip. "Good girl."

He plays with her. There's no other word for it-- his fingers stroke with maddening lightness, avoiding her clit, circling, teasing. She's still got one hand on the headboard; the other fists in the sheets. "Bull...!"

"Good?" he asks her.

" _Please_ ," she gasps.

"Oh, I like that. That sounds good. You can keep doing that," he tells her.

"...Please," she says again. "Please, Iron Bull, touch me..."

The sound of his name on her lips makes him even harder. "I am touching you," he tells her, and her frustrated sound echoes in his groin.

"Please, touch me more-- _Oh!_ " She jerks away, violently, as he slips just one finger in.

"Keep still," he snaps, "or it's five more right here and now."

"But I can't," she pants, "it's too much, it's--"

"You asked." He steadies her with his other hand, catches her hip to keep her ass high. "Now you'll know to be careful what you ask for."

She lets out a shrill sound as he slides his finger in deeper. His fingers are so much bigger than hers, and it probably feels like too much already. She's wet but tight, the heat of her clinging to him, making his entry slow and careful. _Just one finger_ he thinks, _and she's this fucking tight._ He's not even sure he'll be able to get his cock in there, at least not this time.

He slides his finger all the way to the last knuckle and she cries out, shudders. "Oh..."

"This isn't anything compared to my dick," he says. "You know that, right?"

She nods, biting at her lip against the burn, the pain. "I'm, I'm not sure I can--"

"Shh." He hushes her, presses kisses to her side again. "Don't worry about that now. We'll make it work. Maybe not this time, but soon."

She smiles a little then, rueful. "You keep saying that word," she whispers.

"Whenever you're ready," he tells her. "I'm not gonna make you do anything that would hurt you, Boss. Not ever."

"Okay." She takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly through her nose. "I'm okay. You... You can move."

"Not your call," he tells her, but before she can protest he lowers his head and brushes his lips against her heat.

He teases her again, now with lips and teeth and tongue. She shudders, cries out, moves her hips a little as she tries to get more. He'd punish her for it, but the movements have her sliding over his finger, fucking herself on it just a little, and that's more than worth a little disobedience if it gets her ready. Even if he doesn't fuck her on his cock, he wants her open and ready and begging for it when she comes.

He laps at her wetness, nibbles at her thigh. He lets his tongue part her folds and circle around his own finger. She shoves back harder, begging with her hips. Damn, is this good.

When he closes lips around her little pink clit, she screams things that might be Elven words. He's moving his finger steadily now, shoving in and out, and her hips move with him in beautiful concert. The look on her face when he lifts his head to look is incredible; eyes shut tight, face flushed, teeth gritted. She wants to come so bad.

"Not yet," he tells her.

He fingers her a little longer, lets her moan and beg for his mouth, but Bull doesn't relent. She's thrusting her hips back but without his mouth it's just not quite enough to get her off. "Bull," she moans, "Bull, please, I'm so close--"

"I know. Not yet."

She wails, frustrated.

Bull slides his finger almost all the way out, then slides another in to join it.

The Inquisitor screams.

He follows with his mouth, building her back up to her peak again, until she's moving just as slick and easy as she was before. She tosses her head, writhes against him, begs raggedly for him to not stop, don't stop, oh gods please don't stop, and when he nips sharply at her clit she shudders so violently that for a second he thinks she's come. But no, not yet; close, so damn _close_.

Bull adds finger number three.

It's too much for her now; she can't manage to push back against him this time. She whimpers, trembles, shakes like she's about to fall apart. The bed actually creaks as she leans hard against the headboard, clutching at it like a lifeline, like it's the only thing keeping her anchored.

"Shh," he soothes her. "Easy. Don't move. Just feel."

He's merciful; he doesn't try to thrust, just lets her body adjust around the intrusion of his fingers. When her breathing evens out a little and her shaking goes back to "periodic" instead of "constant", he leans in to suck and lick at her again. Her ragged moan is a reward for a job well done, he thinks.

It takes a lot longer this time to drive her back up to her peak. She's at her limit and he knows it, so this time he'll let her come. He whispers praise against the backs of her thighs, licks patterns of fire across her skin, bites his name into her flesh until she's making high, desperate noises in the back of her throat. He tongues her clit, just tiny delicate licks and nips, barely there, barely even a tease.

She's breathing hard, gasping now, too far gone for even moans as she chases down her finish. She wants to come, and she's about to do it with her pretty ass in the air and three thick fingers in her cunt. Bull smiles.

"Now," he tells her.

Her pussy clamps down tight, so fucking tight, as she finally comes, hips jerking fitfully. Her cries are loud, uncontrolled, wild. She's beyond sense right now, beyond everything but the rhythmic clench of her muscles and the feel of Bull sucking at her clit. He imagines what it'd feel like to have his cock in her as she comes this hard; the thought makes him dizzy.

He has to hold her up as she finishes; her legs give out at the end, as if there's just no more strength in them. She's still making noises, though they've quieted down to little helpless moans now. Bull murmurs soft nonsense to her as she comes down, tells her how good she is, how well she did. 

He lowers her to the bed, and she flops sort of bonelessly to her side.

"You okay?" he asks, gently.

"Mnh." She opens her eyes, looks up at him with a sort of weary dreaminess. "That was... Mmm."

He tilts her a crooked smile. "That good, huh?"

"Mm. I've never... Nothing like that..."

Bull chuckles at her lack of words. "I know. Now you have."

She looks like she's trying to snuggle under the covers without moving, so Bull helps her arrange herself properly under them before the cool night air can chill her. After a long moment where she just _breathes_ , Lavellan cracks open one eye, frowning. "Bull. What about _you_?"

"I'm just fine for now," he tells her, and he's mostly telling the truth. Sure, his dick is throbbing, but it can wait. He's still in control, and right now what she needs is a little rest, he thinks. "Close your eyes. Relax. You've earned it."

Her smile is grateful as her heavy lids slip shut again. Her breathing eventually slows, evens. She's asleep before long, and Bull takes a moment to just remember her like that-- sated, loose, as relaxed as he's ever seen her. She looks sweet, innocent even. He snorts. Innocent is the last word most people would use right now, but it still fits.

He runs into Leliana as he's leaving, closing the door behind him. Her brows are dangerously arched.

"Is the Inquisitor--"

"No," Bull tells her firmly. "Let her sleep."

Leliana's eyes burn into his back as he makes his way down the stairs. He doesn't give a damn. He's already planning next time. He's thinking, _Bring rope_.


End file.
